


Do You Think Red Is My Color?

by SoriSeeraKyra



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, First Aid, Flirting, Fluff, Hangover, Jealousy, Sports, Vain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:58:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoriSeeraKyra/pseuds/SoriSeeraKyra
Summary: Jason doesn't like being around people much, but you asked, so he'll go.





	Do You Think Red Is My Color?

**Author's Note:**

> A request from someone on tumblr

“Do you think red is my color?

 

Jason’s blue eyes shift from the magazine he was flipping through on his lap to you. He flicks his eyes over your form appreciating the sight.

 

“I always thought it was gold, but I’m making this look really good,” you say spinning around to admire the outfit.

 

If he was honest, there was nothing particularly special about the outfit, at least by your standards. A cropped halter top and shorts that nearly left your ass hanging out wasn’t something that bothered him anymore. You were confident in the way that you looked and often showed it with your choice in outfits. When you first got together, he often found himself becoming angry at your choice in clothing and demanded that you tone down your dress a bit. However, after the first couple of screaming matches and a week without talking to each other, he’d dropped the issue. The color was nice though, red was probably one of the colors he liked on you best.

 

“You look good, babe.” He said with a shrug. “We’re just going to meet up with everyone though, I don’t think they’ll care what you are wearing.”

 

“Jason!” you say with a gasp in faux outrage. “You should use every opportunity you can to be at your best, even if it’s just around family.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“I know so,” you say with a smirk walking over to your dresser and slipping on bracelets over your wrists. “Does the bar we are going to have good food?”

 

“Don’t know, never been,” he says turning his attention back to the page in front of him.

 

You cut your eyes over to the bed were your boyfriend was lounging, slightly perturbed at his nonchalant attitude.

 

You walk over to the bed and begin to straddle him. He looks up at you and raises an eyebrow in question as you pull the magazine from his hands.

 

“What?” He questions.

 

“Why does it seem like you don’t want to leave the house?” You ask using your hand to push some of his hair back.

 

He sighs and places his hands on your hips, “Truthfully, I’d rather stay home. We have a perfectly good television here, and the only screaming that I’ll have to hear is yours.”

 

“If we stayed home, how would I show off my pretty outfit?”

 

“You can show me all the pretty outfits you want, here, at home,” he says slipping his hand to the back of your head and pulling you down for a quick kiss.

 

You smile when his lips touch yours but you pull away and place your hands on his shoulders.

 

“I want to go and watch the game, with our friends, in a large crowded bar, and eat onion rings,” you say wiping a bit of your lipstick off his lips with your thumb. “So, change out of that disgusting shirt so I can go have fun.”

 

He looks at you with a frown on his face and stares blankly before he relents with a sigh and a roll of his eyes.

 

“Fine.”

***

“There he is,” you say pointing to one of  the tables. The familiar mop of dark hair and the orange spacewoman sitting next to him easily give away Dick’s position.

 

“I see him,” Jason mumbles already annoyed with loud atmosphere of the bar.

 

“Don’t be such a sour puss,” you say squeezing his large hand in yours and pulling him through the bar.

 

As you walk through the bar a whistle rolls through the air and almost simultaneously Jason scans the crowd looking for the offender. When he looks around he can see the not so subtle side glances being cast at your form and it causes his shoulders to tense up in irritation.

 

“Hello Richard,” you say with a smile as you approach.

 

His blue eyes lookup and catch yours and though he groans at your words, he can’t help the smile that comes across his face.

 

“When are you going to stop calling me that,” He says standing up to give you an embrace.

 

“Never. The fact that you willingly let people call you Dick, is something that I will never understand,” you say pulling back from the hug.

 

“Most people’s minds don’t go _there_ when they say my name,” he defends.

 

“Oh, they most certainly do Richard, don’t be silly.” Your gaze shifts to the redheaded woman standing beside him, “Hello Kori, you’re looking extra highlighter orange today.”

 

“Hey don’t-“Richard starts.

 

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, bird brain. It’s a compliment,” You say as you hug the tall woman. “You’re absolutely glowing today, Kori.”

 

The woman smiles at the praise and returns the embrace and the two of you sit across from each other, “Thank you.”

 

“It’s the sex, isn’t it?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

 

Dick begins coughing, seemingly choking on air while Jason let’s out an embarrassed cough of his own.

 

Kori’s green eyes blink at you for a moment before she answers, “Yes, it is. How did you know?”

 

“I know post coital glow when I see it,” you say with a wink.

 

“You’re very perceptive, where did you pick up such a skill?”

 

“Experience.”

 

“Why don’t we order some drinks before the game starts and things really get crazy?” Dick interjects, cheeks red with embarrassment.

 

“Thank God,” Jason mumbles as he begins to call for the waitress.

 

***

After a round of beer, three tequila shots each, and an apple martini for you, the four of you find yourselves excitedly yelling at the screen with the other patrons at the bar. There are thirty seconds left in the game and your team is ahead by two points.

 

“Don’t be stupid!” You yell out from your position on Jason’s lap as you watch the player with the ball timidly make a plan.

 

A few patrons yell in agreement and another decides to be more direct with their commentary.

 

“Yeah, listen to the pretty lady.”

 

Jason’s hands almost instinctively pull you against him more at the comment.

 

In your haze, your eyes scan the people at the bar and find that the remark came from a man sitting not too far away from you.  You send him a wink and he allows a suggestive smile to cross his face.

 

You turn your attention away from him and back to the screen and find yourself clapping and cheering with the others as the opposing team misses their last chance to score and the time on the clock winds down.

 

You miss the way that Jason’s eyes narrow at the exchange and the frown that pulls at his lips.

As the television flashes to the individual players for post-game interviews the loudness of the bar begins to subside. You stand and stretch; your body feels tight even despite all of the alcohol. Your shirt begins to ride up, revealing even more of your stomach than it was previously.

 

Jason notices the man who commented on you earlier, take a long sip of his beer as his eyes scan up and down your form, lingering on your shapelier places.

 

His foot starts to tap in anger and he feels warm, not only from the closeness of the packed room, but from the amount of alcohol running through his veins. He tries to stay quiet and sip at some of the water that he’d ordered, if he reacted the way he wanted to, he might cause more trouble than the situation is actually worth.

 

 

“I think we’re going to head out guys,” Dick says as he stands up, his legs slightly unsteady from the drinking.

 

Kori stands with him as they use each other to steady themselves, “This was fun, next time perhaps we should watch sports ball at our apartment.”

 

“Did you not know what sport was being played?” You question blinking at her.

 

“Yes?” She lies.

 

“Next time,” you pause as hiccup forces its way past your lips. “We’ll do this at your place and I’ll explain the rules to you, okay?”

 

She nods and the two of them begin to stumble their way out of the bar.

 

You turn to Jason, “I’m going to go to the bathroom and then we can grro-I mean go.”

 

“Be careful,” he warns as you stumble away from the table. “You look a little dizzy.”

 

“I can do this,” you retort hands on your hips. “I’m an adult.”

 

You begin to walk forward and almost instantly your foot catches on air and you’re flying forward. Jason leaps from his seat to catch you but he’s too late. Large hands grip your shoulders and force you to the upright position.

 

You blink dreamily at the form in front of you before you realize that it is the same man who’s been flirting with you the entire time.

 

“Careful there, beautiful,” he chastises playfully as he notes your surprised expression. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that face of yours.”

 

“Even If I had a bloody nose I’d still look better than half the dogs in this place,” you state with a smirk. Even when you’re intoxicated, you never miss a chance to flout your beauty.

 

“I think you’re right about that, doll,” the man says with a tilt of his head. His blond hair tilts with him and there is a hint of a playful nature shooting through his green eyes. You note that he’s not bad looking, he’s certainly no Jason, but he’s perfectly handsome enough for someone who would wish to settle for less.

 

One of the man’s hands finds itself drifting down from its position on your shoulder and is resting on the exposed part of your back as he attempts to pull your closer to his body.

 

“Uh-oh,” you say with a smile as an intoxicated chuckle forces its way past your lips. “My boyfriend isn’t going to like that.”

 

“No, he’s not,” Jason huffs through clenched teeth.

 

“I’m just talking to her,” the man said a little angrily, his light eyebrows furrowing as the young man approaches. “The girl is free to make her own choices, isn’t she?”

 

“Of course, she is, and she doesn’t like being talked about like she’s not here,” you say your own temper flaring.

 

“Let go of my girlfriend,” Jason says as steadily as he can. He thought that his anger was causing him to sober up, but now he’s not so sure. He can see you clearly, but there is two of the guy, and he’s not sure which one the real one is.

 

“Fine whatever,” the man roughly pushes you into Jason. Luckily once you crash into his solid frame the two of you don’t fall over. “If she wasn’t sharing, she shouldn’t have dressed like a slut.”

 

“Hey, you fucker-” you start, but it’s too late. Jason has launched himself at the man…well to the side of the man. His fist in the air, he misses the guys face by about five inches and his large body goes crashing into another patron.

 

“Shit!” you exclaim as you run over to check over on your fallen beau. “Jason?”

 

He groans slightly as he mutters an apology to the man under him and rolls to the side. He seems to be fine, and you don’t think he’s hit his head and luckily for you, your worry for him has sobered you up rather quickly.

 

“What a dumbass.” The flirtatious man says with a laugh. “Hey sweet cheeks, since he’s clearly not able to stand up straight, why don’t you come home with me?”

 

You feel a surge of anger shoot down your spine. You stand and cast a glance at the bar tender who was waiting by the phone, ready to call the police if necessary.

 

“Call me a cab, will you?”

 

The bartender nods and picks up the phone.

 

“I don’t appreciate being called out of my name,” you say arms crossing over your chest. “What I like even less is people laughing at my boyfriend. I think you owe the both of us an apology.”

 

“Both you and your pussy of a boyfriend are a pair of bitches. And I can say and laugh at whatever I want,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s always the whores with the pretty boyfriends that think  they can talk to guys anyway they want.”

 

“Apologize,” you demand your hands at your sides, clenched in anger.

 

“Make me.”

 

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol that’s been liberally given out because of the occasion or if the guy is that much of a jack ass, but the moment ‘me’ leaves his lips he finds it necessary to push you.

 

There is a switch that flicks on in your mind at the contact, and before you know it your fist is moving on its own. Your first hit lands on the peak of his nose and he’s left reeling and holding his nose in pain.

 

“Shit!” He cries hunched over. “You bitch.”

 

The continued name calling urges you to continue on and you bring your bare knee up into his face and it forces his head to fly back.  The moment that your leg comes down the other comes up as you spin kick the man in his exposed stomach. He flies back into a table of some very scared customers and he lays there, wallowing in pain.

 

“Well this turned out to be more interesting than I thought it would be,” you mutter to yourself.  Your knuckles and your knee are already throbbing in irritation and you look down to see a little bit of blood dribbling down your knee cap. “Ugh, his head was harder than I thought.”

 

A groan catches your ear and you turn to see your boyfriend slowly standing up. You walk up to him and place a hand on his back and swing his arm over your shoulder. “Careful, you drunk too much, babe.”

 

You can tell his blue eyes are taking in the scene in front of him and he’s trying to piece together what happened. “Don’t think about it too much, you’ll get a headache.”

 

“Uh, hello?” A voice questions. “Someone called for a cab?”

 

Your hand shoots up calling attention to yourself, “I did!”

 

The man examines your slightly disheveled form and he worriedly scratches the back of his head.

 

“Are you going to help me or not?” You question as you struggle to move Jason’s intoxicated form.

 

“Right, sorry.” The taxi driver comes to your side and helps to pull Jason out of the bar. As the two of you are walking out, you take the extra time to be petty and kick at the boot of the man you knocked out. You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing when he lets out a groan.

 

***

It’s hours later when Jason wakes up. He can tell by the familiar softness that he’s in your shared bed. His eyes cut over to the window and sees that its’ still dark outside, meaning it’s mostly likely extremely late or early.

 

He groans as he sits up, his head pounding. He happens to cast a glance at the nightstand near the bed and he smiles when he sees two aspirin and a glass of water waiting for him.

 

“She’s the best,” he mutters as he picks up the pills.

 

“I know,” you say with a smirk as you walk into the room. He watches as you make your way to sit down next him, wearing one of his t-shirts. You flop down next to him and the familiar smell of your soap fills his nose, letting him know that you’ve just gotten out the shower.

 

“What’s this?” He questions after he’s swallowed the medicine. He’s noticed the bandages wrapped around your knee and hand.

 

“The fight at the bar,” you mumble. You had hoped that he wouldn’t remember.

 

He lets out a groan of irritation as the events replay in his mind, “I wish we just would have stayed home.”

 

“I wanted to have fun,” you pout.

 

“Does fun always have to mean showing off for other guys?” He asks bitterly.

 

“I thought we went over this?” You say sharply, as the playfulness is sucked from your tone. “I’ll wear what I want.”

 

“I don’t care what you wear,” he hisses back. “This is about what you did. Forget about that asshole calling you names, or him being just a dick, you flirted with him.”

 

You open your mouth to respond but he shakes his head. “I saw you, when you were sitting on my lap. I was right there and you did it anyway.”

 

You feel your throat tighten up in guilt and you pull at the hem of the black t-shirt, “I’m sorry it’s just sometimes I-“

 

“Want to make me jealous?”

 

“Not on purpose, no” you deny with a sly smile. “But were you?”

 

“Of course, I was,” he’s says with a roll of his eyes. “That first comment he made I wanted to clock him over the head. But I guess I didn’t need too.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say coyly. “I was defending myself, adrenalin took over.”

 

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” he says with a smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead. He grabs your injured hand. Despite the bandage you’ve wrapped around it, the underside of your palm and fingers is beet red and it gives it away that your fingers are swollen and irritated. It’s most likely due to the fact that you hadn’t fought in a long time. The slight calluses that are on these fingers, however, let him know that you are used to fighting. “When are you going to tell me about what you did before you met me?”

 

“When it’s absolutely necessary,” you say with a shrug.

 

“You know everything there is to know about me,” he reasons.

 

“Do I?” You say rubbing your thumb against the scar on his face.

 

“Well, maybe not _everything._ ”

 

“And I don’t need to,” you say pressing your forehead against his. “The person I love is the you I know now and you love who I am now. There is no need to put you in danger just for the sake of knowing.”

 

He stares at you for a moment and then relents and presses a kiss to your lips, “Alright.”

 

“I brought you an ice pack,” you say watching him wince and hold his head.

 

“Thanks,” he says as he lays back and places the pack over his eyes.

 

You turn off the lights and lay down next to him.

 

“What did you think of the red?” you ask absently after a few minutes in the darkness.

 

“You looked good, your skin popped and everything,” he says with a shrug.

 

“Really, you noticed that?”

 

“Yeah of course,” he says smiling as he feels your head rest on his chest. “Red is definitely your color.”

 

“I knew it.”


End file.
